


Heat

by Emerald



Category: Moonlight (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-14
Updated: 2010-08-14
Packaged: 2017-10-14 23:04:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerald/pseuds/Emerald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a heatwave in L.A. Josef catches Mick in a compromising position, which leads to something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat

**Author's Note:**

> Requested fic, written for Jksgirl on the Moonlight VampSisters Messageboard.

It’s hot, the kind of heat that makes the horizon shimmer, and turns the tar on the road into thick black molasses, the kind of heat that can make a man forget himself. The city of Los Angeles sleeps blanketed by a layer of unseasonable warmth.

Mick lies stretched out on a black, leather couch, a bucket of ice chips rested on his chest. He shifts positions, curses the way the material sticks to his skin, and sprinkles a layer of the chips across his thighs, and stomach. He needs the cold; the chill of ducted air-conditioning blowing across ice- dampened flesh soothes him for the moment.

The ice begins to melt, creating tiny rivulets of water that run across his flesh, down his groin, over his balls. The cool breeze of the air conditioner heightens the sensation. Mick feels his cock harden. And then his hands are shifting lower, the bucket of ice chips set aside. Mick cups his balls with one hand, and grips the shaft of his cock with the other, stroking, and caressing, slowly at first, and then faster.

It’s been so long; he craves the release, a distraction from the build up of heat, and denial. For a brief moment Mick imagines he could almost feel human again doing this, just a single guy on a Saturday night, lying on the couch, and jacking off. Funny the little things that define mortality.

Mick bites back a groan, and steps up the pace. The same hand cupping his balls seeks lower now, slipping between the cheeks of his arse, a saliva dampened finger massaging the entrance found there. Mick gasps as he pushes that finger inside, and curls it against that electric spot.

Lost in a haze of pleasure, Mick doesn’t notice he’s being watched. And then he feels the leather cushion of the couch depress slightly, Josef’s knee placed next to his own, Josef’s legs straddling his thighs. Mick’s eyes fly open. Josef hovers over him, grinning, one eyebrow raised in a teasing arch.

“Oh you are so busted.”

“Josef, what the hell are you doing, how did you get inside?” Mick looks flustered, and scrambles to cover himself.

“I live here, remember.” Josef catches Mick’s wrists, and pins his arms either side of his head, chuckling at the way Mick seems to be attempting to worm his way through the couch then.

Josef lives here; this is Josef’s place, Mick mentally kicks himself for the oversight. For a moment he had forgotten where here was exactly, now he remembers; the fire, a terrified child in his arms, Coraline engulfed in flames. Josef had taken in him, when Mick hadn’t known where else to go.

Josef releases his grip on Mick’s wrists, and leans down to place his lips against Mick’s ear, whispering, “I’m not really here, I’m just a figment of your imagination.”

Josef was giving him a way out, ‘this doesn’t have to mean anything, Mick, we can just pretend it isn’t even happening’. They’d been down this road before. There was always some excuse, some reason to pretend otherwise.

Mick wonders for a moment if they’ll run out of excuses one day. For now he merely swallows back a lump of uncertainty, and then gives a silent nod of agreement.  
 _  
This is just a fantasy._

Only fantasies don’t appear quite so vivid, and fantasies don’t entwine their fingers with your own, and then beckon you towards a bedroom.

Mick allows himself to be lead, through a maze of hallways, past a myriad of different doors. And then he’s being manoeuvred towards a bed; Josef’s hand placed in the middle of his chest pushes him onto the mattress below.

Nervous, his body humming with residual heat, and anticipation, Mick stretches out, tries to get comfortable as he watches Josef at the foot of the bed hurriedly shedding his clothing. And then Josef joins him, crawling catlike across the mattress until his face is level with Mick’s crotch.

“Oh, Jesus.” Mick groans, loudly, and arcs up as Josef takes him into his mouth. Josef circles the head of Mick’s cock with his lips, his tongue flicking at the sensitive underside. And then those same lips are shifting downward, engulfing Mick’s length.

Josef waits until he’s got Mick suspended on a knife’s edge, and then backs off. He can keep this up for hours, knows just the right touch, just the right amount of pressure to use. Knows when to speed up, and when to slow down, pause for a moment, let the arousal crest, and then gradually decline, before building to a crescendo once more.

Mick writhes, and moans under Josef’s attention, tasting beads of sweat on his lips, strands of hair stuck wet to his forehead, damp with perspiration. Josef hooks his hands under Mick’s knees, and urges him to draw his legs upwards. And then his tongue is pressing rhythmically against Mick’s arsehole, one saliva-drenched finger circling the perimeter, stretching him slowly. Before Josef plunges back in with his tongue, penetrating as far as he can go.

Mick’s hands dig into the top of Josef’s skull, his fingers gripping Josef’s hair, trying to draw him in further. Mick feels his fangs descend, his face all pale white visage; lips, and eyes red rimmed like bruises. Josef has him purring now, a deep, guttural sound that emanates from Mick’s chest, and vibrates out through his throat. Mick doesn’t know how much more he can take, he’s so close, his whole body sensitised, straining for release. And still Josef keeps him from falling over the edge.

“Josef, please.”

Mick resorts to a whisper-strained plea. Josef shifts along Mick’s body then, moving upwards, pausing at the line of Mick’s chest. And then he’s sinking his fangs into the hard, muscular flesh that he finds there, creating two rapidly healing puncture wounds that quickly well with blood. That same fluid used to smear crimson patterns across Mick’s skin.

Mick feels the last vestiges of control slip away; the heady scent of copper enlivens him like no other. He begs to be fucked, wants to be taken hard, needs to feel the world slipping away.

Josef’s happy to oblige, grinning triumphantly as he reaches for the oil in the cabinet next to the bed. And then Josef presses his lips to Mick’s ear, whispering as he uses two oil-dipped fingers to penetrate Mick’s space.

“You’re beautiful, why do you deny yourself so much?”

Mick gasps as Josef’s fingers find their mark. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to respond. What can he say, that he hates the thought of being a monster in someone else’s eyes? It’s different with Josef, it always has been. Not even Coraline could chase the demons away entirely. Mick wonders for a moment whether Josef could either. All Mick knows is there are only two people in existence that have ever succeeded in not making him feel like the monster he is inside, one was a 6 year old, golden-haired cherub, the other is the man alongside him now. And deep down Mick knows, knows Josef does too; the excuses they draw upon are just a façade.

In the end Mick declines to answer, instead he wraps his arms around Josef’s neck, and draws Josef’s lips towards his own. Josef withdraws his fingers from Mick’s arse, breaking away from Mick’s kiss momentarily as he hurriedly slicks his own length with an application of oil. And then he’s paused at the threshold, whispering a heated instruction into the side of Mick’s neck, feeling Mick trembling with anticipation beneath him.

“Relax, I’ve got you.”

Mick mewls as he feels the head of Josef’s cock breach his resistance. And then he’s giving a single, sharp cry, and digging his fingernails into the flesh of Josef’s back. As Josef lunges forward, plunging the full length of himself deep into Mick’s arse.

Josef pauses at the hilt, waits for Mick’s body to adjust. And then he’s withdrawing, and thrusting back in, over, and over, quickening the pace with every turn. Mick clings to Josef’s neck, wraps his legs around Josef’s waist, his feet digging into Josef’s buttocks spurring him on. And Josef’s slamming him now, growling as he jackhammers Mick’s arse, and listens to the sounds of Mick’s approval.

“I…Oh Jesus, Oh Christ, bloody fuck, yes,” Josef lets loose with a string of expletives, his muscles straining, whole body trembling. And then he’s thrusting forward one last time, and sinking his fangs into the side of Mick’s neck.

Mick quickly reaches between them, throws a hand onto his cock, jerks rapid fire along its length. And that’s when Mick comes too, swearing his own oath of pleasure as he bites into the top of Josef’s shoulder, and feels his cock spasm, and pulsate, fluid pumping over his fingers.

Josef withdraws when it’s over, passes Mick a towel to clean up. For what seems like the longest time neither of them speaks. Mick settles into Josef’s arms, one leg draped across Josef’s thighs, Josef’s fingers absentmindedly stroking the back of Mick’s neck.

“You never answered my question,” Josef breaks the silence, turning to face Mick alongside. “Why do you deny yourself so much, Mick? You are allowed to enjoy things once in a while; Coraline didn’t consign you to a life of sackcloth and ashes. ”

“I don’t know.” Mick’s fingers trace the contours of Josef’s face; he still doesn’t know how to answer. He needs words, words to unravel his confusion, words to express his doubts, and feelings, a myriad of words that never seem to come.

Mick’s body still hums with residual pleasure; he feels Josef’s hand slipping into his own, their fingers entwining. And then Josef’s mouth brushes against Mick’s own; the kiss sweet, and tender this time, all warm wet pressure, and gently parted lips.

“Make love to me again,” This time it’s Mick’s turn to whisper in Josef’s ear. “This heat is still getting to me, I’m not quite ready to wake up.”

“I could love you forever.” Josef draws his arms around Mick’s neck, and pulls him near. And then they're both wrapping themselves up in each other, hands clutching, lips seeking heating contact as they head towards the abyss once more.

It’s hot, the kind of heat that makes the horizon shimmer, and turns the tar on the road into thick black molasses, the kind of heat that can make a man forget himself.  
 _  
The kind of heat that makes a man admit the truth._


End file.
